


until the day you die

by Aescela



Series: like a scar, indelible [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massive fluff, Mute!Corvo - Freeform, Royal Spymaster!Daud, Sign Language, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, cute old men in love, grumpy old Daud, mute character, old man Corvo, old man Daud, tattooed!Daud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 00:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10148570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aescela/pseuds/Aescela
Summary: This is a collection of oneshots and occasional snippets based on my continuation of Taywen's beautiful soulmate AU. Might contain major time-skips in random order, might be set inbetween chapters of "of what you've done". Don't expect any complex plot, and don't read if you're allergic to fluff. Anyway, input and ideas for other oneshots are always welcome. :) Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I should put a warning in: This chapter contains description of sex between very old men. If you're feeling grossed out by that, don't proceed. But honestly, why should you? Sex is for everybody, not only for handsome young bombshells. Let me rephrase that warning:
> 
> This chapter contains beautiful fluffy love between cute old men. There you go.

Corvo bites the inside of his lip so hard that it hurts, but he doesn’t want to risk laughing. He knows that as soon as Daud, still having an excellent hearing despite his age, hears as much as a grunt of suppressed chuckling from Corvo, Daud is going to stop whatever he does immediately and shoot him that accusing glare not quite covering up his self-conscious expression. So Corvo tolerates the stinging sensation in his lip in favor of watching Daud, and it’s worth every bit.

Daud had already spent at least ten minutes standing in front of a wall in Corvo’s office to tilt a painting properly that he just mounted there. Corvo watches as he reaches out with his index finger and gives the painting a barely noticeable nudge. He steps back, a hand resting under his chin, and squints at the frame. He frowns, apparently decides that the frame is still tilted, and lifts his hand to adjust the angle again.

The frame holds the first drawing Emily made for Daud, almost thirty years ago. Daud had never attempted to hide his disgust at the obsession most nobles have with hoarding expensive artwork and he’d never even think about putting a framed Sokolov in his room, but this is something entirely different, and Corvo shares the sentiment. A crude, childish drawing on the back of an old leaflet, made with crayons and littered with tiny, colorful fingerprints and candy smears, embedded proudly in a magnificent golden frame behind a protective layer of glass, something nobles would reserve for framing their prized heirlooms.

It deserves nothing less than that.

The drawing shows three figures in a random mess of flowers and hearts, two larger ones and a third, smaller one between them. Despite childish in style, Emily still had been able to use her amazing talent for observing details even at her early age, and it is unmistakable who the depicted persons are. The small figure wears a white dress and a bow on its black hair, one of the tall figures a blue coat and the other a red one, both of them with swords. The figure in the red coat has a vertical stripe across one half of its face, but that doesn’t keep it from smiling widely.

The taller figures are holding hands.

Daud is so taken up by his activity to make sure the painting sits perfectly on the wall that he looks unintentionally funny, glaring at the frame as if he wants to make it confess a crime with his stern gaze. Corvo can’t help the endearing smirk spreading on his face while his partner is fussing with the painting, hiding his amusement getting harder by the second.

“Why does it not surprise me at all that you don’t care if your paintings are strewn all over the place, Corvo?” Daud suddenly drawls with fake annoyance without turning around, still critically judging the angle of the painting.

Now Corvo, his cover blown, allows himself a soft laugh. Daud turns his head just enough to shoot him the well-familiar disapproving frown, one eyebrow tilted up, but Corvo knows only too well that the slight curl in one corner of his lips betrays him. Corvo winks at him and chuckles when Daud returns the gesture before turning back to the painting. Corvo continues what he’d been doing before watching his soulmate had distracted him and carefully places the box with Daud’s books he’d been carrying in front of his shelf. While he opens the box, the sound of a transversal hisses in the air, and two young Whalers appear, one with a stack of files in their hands and the other with a box of tools, oil cans and spare wristbow parts.

“Master Daud, we have the last boxes. Your old office is empty now. Where do you want us to put them?”

“Edgar, Ron. Place the files on the desk, thank you.”

Edgar does as he’s asked, but as soon as Ron attempts to put down his load Daud slightly turns his head with a look that spells mayhem.

“I’d advise you to not put the tools on the books.”

“But Master, you said…”

“The files go on the desk, but not the repair kit. The oil ruins paper.”

“I didn’t know, Master…”

“Oh, did you? Rulfio should have taught you a million times already,” Daud groans sarcastically.

“I…”

“Wrong answer, Ron!”

Corvo carefully acts like he’s focusing on the books as he listens to Daud giving the recruits a passionate tongue-lashing about proper wristbow care and grins inwardly. Daud may have retired from active missions a while ago, but he still participates in the training of his recruited spies. Corvo knows only too well how rigorous he still is and how much he secretly cares for each and every one of his Whalers, despite his gruff tone.

“… and that is why should I ever see a drop of gun oil on my desk again you’ll be stuck with kitchen duty for a month, is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

Corvo can hear Daud huff, and glancing over his shoulder shows him he’s turned his attention to Emily’s drawing again.

“That is all. Thank you for the help. Grab a whiskey from the shelf next to the balcony and then off you go.”

The young Whalers exchange a glance that is hidden under their masks, but probably a mixture of deep relief about leaving the office with their heads attached and surprise about the bottle they are allowed to pick from the shelf before disappearing as fast as they can.

“Thanks, Master!”

“I said go!” Daud snarls without turning around, but Corvo still catches the slight lift of one corner of his lip when he picks up on the recruits’ excited tone. Edgard waves Corvo a greeting.

“See you, Attano!”

Corvo nods to them and the Void calls two times, taking the recruits with it. Corvo waits until they are alone, then he walks over to Daud.

* * *

 

There are soft footsteps on the marble tiles, easy and sure even after all those years, footsteps Daud knows only too well. He leans back into Corvo’s warmth when his soulmate embraces him from behind and places his scratchy chin on Daud’s shoulder.

“You know, if it weren’t for me your quarters would look like somebody blew up a public library and a local black market,” Daud points out, but there is no spite in his tone. He smiles when he hears Corvo’s chuckle. Hands, strong and steady despite Corvo’s age, hover in front of him to sign, partly covered with woolen bandages in an elegant blue shade to hide the marks on them.

 _You mean_ our _quarters._

“I mean your pile of clutter that you’re willing to share with me, but if you want to call it _our quarters_ , that’s fine,” Daud comes back, the soft hoarseness in his voice betraying his sarcasm. He turns his head a little and presses a kiss against the light gray stubble on Corvo’s cheek, causing the other man to tighten his embrace. Corvo rests his temple against Daud’s for a moment before he leaves his partner to it, continuing to slowly carry the countless boxes of books and writing supplies over to Daud’s desk that the Whalers recently placed next to Corvo’s in front of the large windows with the billowing blue curtains.

Daud smiles and returns his gaze to the painting to give the frame one last nudge, finally satisfied with the angle. He turns around to his soulmate where Corvo is unpacking the boxes of Daud’s belongings his Whalers had helped them carry into the Royal Protector’s quarters.

Or, former Royal Protector, that is.

Things are changing.

A frustrated growl from Corvo makes Daud grin, and he watches as Corvo maneuvers around Daud’s spacious folding screens littered with pinned notes with a crate in his hands. He manages to not knock anything over as he shuffles by to place the crate on Daud’s desk, but scowls at the screen disapprovingly. Daud smirks at his expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired of me moving in after barely an hour.”

Corvo looks up and his features soften immediately. He shakes his head, something warm and gentle lighting up his eyes.

_I’m glad you’re moving in._

“I promise I won’t be that picky. I’ll tolerate your controlled chaos as long as you keep it to your own desk.”

 _How very generous of you_ , Corvo signs with a decidedly sarcastic grin tugging at his lips that Daud counters with a playful wink.

One of the big changes in their lives as the years finally settle down in their bones and weigh down on their backs is the decision to move in together. Daud and Corvo had taken to share a bed in one of their separate quarters most nights anyway for years, and now, as Corvo’s last days as Royal Protector pass by and the long walk from one of their quarters to the other becomes more tedious every day, they had decided to make the next logical step and live together in a shared portion of the Tower. By Corvo’s suggestion they had picked the former Protector’s quarters, since they offer more space, and Daud had understood Corvo’s wish to remain close to their daughter, official position or not.

Despite them being a couple for almost thirty years now, Daud feels strangely thrilled at the thought of them finally moving in together in something like an official way, with his desk and things being transferred and all, and finds himself enjoying the thought more than he could put into words, as if this is something he’d been waiting for for years. His Whalers had helped to bring most of Daud’s furniture into Corvo’s room, leaving some of it for Daud’s second in command who agreed to take over his Master’s office.

“Kieron’s initiation is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Daud wants to know, picking up his walking cane from where he had placed it against the wall, a gift from Emily for his sixty-fifth birthday. It is a remarkably elegant piece carved from beautiful red wood from Pandyssia with a handle made of whalebone in the shape of a wolf’s head, and even though Daud didn’t like the thought of having to rely on something like this at first, he had to admit soon after that it made balancing out the occasional pain in his hips much easier.

Corvo nods, something insecure crossing his features. Daud knows exactly what he is thinking, the thoughts he has, without any gestures necessary. He walks over to Corvo and places a hand on his shoulder, seeking out his eyes with his own. They don’t talk when their gazes lock, but after a moment Corvo smiles, reassured, and places his hand on Daud’s. Daud gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and helps him unpack the countless folders and documents, feeling that Corvo is more at ease now. They continue quietly for a while, until Corvo attempts to lift a heavy box and grimaces from the weight of it. Daud hurries to raise his left hand, letting the box float from Corvo’s hands before he can get hurt and places it on top of the desk.

“Careful with your back, old man,” Daud jokes. Corvo groans in response and rubs the small of his back before he turns his head, his eyes saying thanks to Daud. Daud steps closer and loops an arm around Corvo’s waist, his warm palm pressing against the muscles next to Corvo’s spine that he knows have the habit to hurt more often than not. His hand rubs gentle circles over the sore spot and then moves to Corvo’s front. His partner is growing a little soft around his middle, but Daud couldn’t mind less. He smiles and playfully pats Corvo’s belly, his smirk widening when Corvo huffs and retorts that by nipping at Daud’s lip. They kiss, very slowly, and when they stop Corvo’s face remains close to Daud’s. He nudges his nose against Daud’s cheek, and they stay like that for a long moment, relishing the other’s warmth and closeness. Corvo presses his lips to Daud’s forehead and continues his work, adding Daud’s books between the ones on his shelf. Daud, occupying himself with unpacking stacks of documents, notices that Corvo still wears his infamous foldable blade on his belt, like he did for so many decades, and Daud knows he will do so for much longer, Royal Protector or not.

It’s been almost thirty years since Daud came to the tower, and he’s nearing his seventieth year of life. Corvo is only three years younger than him, and even while he would go down in history as the oldest Lord Protector ever in the service of an Empress of the Isles, he recently had to admit to himself that his time had come to an end. As much as Corvo would have loved to remain by his daughter’s side as her protector for as long as he lives, over time it would become a safety risk he wasn’t willing to make. Corvo and Daud had both kept in remarkably good shape, but slowly, Corvo had felt his age catching up to him. Daud had reacted surprised when Corvo had come to him to grudgingly tell him about his decision to retire, but positively so. After a long, careful talk together they had suggested to Emily to pick a new Royal Protector, and much to their mutual delight Emily had chosen Kieron.

Ever since Kieron had been assigned by Daud to take care of Emily every now and then when she was still a child, they had become as inseparable as a brother and little sister. Back then Kieron had been sixteen, now he’s in his late thirties and one of the best fighters Daud had ever trained. He shares Daud’s powers by drawing from the Arcane Bond between his men and him, granting him the advantage of physical and magical prowess. Corvo himself had insisted in guiding some of Kieron’s training, teaching him everything he knew about safety measures and every single inch of the Tower until Kieron could scale the building with his eyes closed. Daud hadn’t minded in the least, sensing that Corvo needed to make sure Kieron was ready in order to make peace with giving up the position he had been holding for almost fifty years. Daud knows Corvo will never stop worrying for his daughter’s safety, but neither will Daud.

 _Kieron will move in on the other side of Emily’s quarters_ , Corvo informs Daud. Daud nods, not able to suppress a smirk when he recalls the tantrum Corvo had thrown when Emily had suggested to him to give up quarters for Kieron to move in, and quickly realizing that not even the Outsider himself could pry Corvo from his old rooms. Daud deeply approves of Corvo being allowed to keep his quarters, he had found. There are so many memories tied to these walls from the years they spent together, and with them slowly growing old he feels the familiarity soothing and grounding him.

Daud lifts his gaze from where he was sorting folders of papers into his desk to look up at Corvo, watching his soulmate as he squints at the back of a book. Corvo pulls out his glasses from a coat pocket, unfolds them and puts them on. He reads the title again and pushes the book between two others, picking up the next. Corvo looks oddly gentle and educated with the glasses on, more like an elderly philosopher and less like a seasoned fighter, a harsh contrast to the messy ponytail and his scarred, tanned skin peeking out from his well-worn coat still littered with pouches for bolts and bullets. Corvo’s eyes are still excellent on long ranges, but on short ranges he has trouble reading. When he had first admitted to Daud that he would be wearing glasses every now and then about a year ago, as if confessing a sin, Daud had just laughed at him. He finds Corvo nothing but endearing when he’s wearing glasses and he had hurried to let him know.

All in all, Daud finds, age had been incredibly generous to his soulmate. Corvo’s formerly dark brown, almost black hair had grown dark grey with beautiful silver stripes around his temples and specks of white in his short beard, like the fur of a Tyvian mountain fox. He had considered cutting it short, to which Daud had threatened to shave himself bald if Corvo should get rid of his long hair. After a while of playful bickering Corvo had decided to keep his length, but he had taken to tying it up in a short ponytail with strands hanging out, framing his face like his long hair used to when he was younger. Daud still finds him stunningly beautiful, the little crow feet around his eyes when he smiles, the depth of his whiskey brown gaze still bright and clear despite his age.

Daud never considered himself beautiful and his soulmate telling him anything different had always touched something deep inside his core, letting him feel that Corvo was actually being honest when he reverently kissed the scar running down the side of his face and ran his fingers through Daud’s now silver-streaked hair, telling him how much he liked Daud’s scarred mug. Still, when Daud aged the furrows time and sorrow had carved into his face had deepened somewhat, but surely not as much as they would have if Corvo hadn’t been with him. His soulmate’s company as well as Emily’s had made each and every burden of his easier, every worry meaningless, every shared day something that felt important. Daud feels like Corvo’s presence alone had kept him young inside instead of growing bitter and hollow alone. He is lucky that his body plays along most of the time, still being relatively agile and strong due to Whaler training and work despite the occasional trouble his hips make when he walks. In Corvo’s case, it’s his back and eyes, but nothing they couldn’t handle by helping each other.

If anything, Daud finds that despite their age creeping up to them, it had only helped deepening their bond instead of driving a wedge between them. This sentiment is something Daud hadn’t expected he would ever feel. Having been generally disillusioned about romantic bonds for most of his life, he had assumed relationships to grow sour and dull after decades, the partners turning distant and bored, the fire dying down to ashes. Instead, Daud had realized that after years and years of his partnership with Corvo, things had changed between them, but not in a negative way. The hungry fire raging between them had burned low, but never gone out. Instead, it had given way for something permanent, something slow and steady, like softly smoldering coals in a hearth radiating constant heat against the cold of winter. The tension in their muscles might be ceasing and the skin around their scars grows lined and soft, but it doesn’t change the way they feel for each other. If anything, it changes the way they appreciate each other’s bodies. When Corvo’s back had taken a turn for the worse, Daud spent a long time at the Royal Physician’s surgery, learning how to massage his partner’s back to ease the pain, something Daud would do for him most evenings. In return, Corvo always seemed to sense without any words necessary when Daud’s hips would hurt during court meetings that required them to stand straight for a long time, letting Daud rest against his side, an arm around his waist supporting his weight.

They never blame each other for getting old, they support each other as they age.

Something that had changed significantly too is the physical part of their bond. As they slowly grew older, sex between them turned from heated and wild and unrestrained to something much slower, gentle and patient, careful to not overexert their aging bodies while sharing loving touches. It’s still beautiful and passionate, Daud finds, and he knows Corvo shares the sentiment. They are both fully aware of what turns them on and what doesn’t and never afraid of asking for it. Their encounters are less about a direct drive to orgasm and more about simple erotic acts like holding each other close or sharing touches and kisses. Sometimes neither of them finishes and they are content to just lie in each other’s arms, intimately connected and reveling in the other’s body heat keeping them warm during the nights that seem colder than when they were young. Sometimes they just undress each other and kiss for a long time until they drift off, Corvo absentmindedly tracing the fading, blurry lines of Daud’s tattoos like he did since the day they realized their feelings for each other, so many years ago. Daud recalls that one time he was pleasing Corvo with his mouth and Corvo had simply fallen asleep after a while, and instead of acting insulted Daud had cradled him into his arms, satisfied with the knowledge that he had managed to help his soulmate relax, pressing an amused little kiss against the tip of his nose before he fell asleep too.

It had taken them some time to adapt to this change of pace, though. The first few times Corvo had experienced trouble getting his body to behave the way he wanted while they were lying in bed together had led to some tension between them. Daud had been patient and understanding, and they had tried some more times again later, but when the problem kept reoccurring Corvo had withdrawn from him. Daud had never pressured Corvo, careful to never make him feel like he was lacking, but Corvo had been so frustrated with himself that he’d avoided the topic altogether for a while. Daud had become frustrated too when his attempts at reassuring Corvo hadn’t helped, leading to something of a distance between them. Until one day Corvo had shown Daud a bonecharm he had dug out from the forgotten corners of Dunwall, suggesting they should place it under the bed just to see if it helps. It had, surprisingly, and Daud had been happier than he could put into words to see Corvo’s passion being rekindled. After a few weeks Daud had taken the bonecharm away without telling Corvo, and when they had sex the very same evening there hadn’t been any troubles.

Afterwards, when they were contently lying in each other’s arms, Daud had confessed to Corvo about the bonecharm not being there this time. Corvo had reacted surprised, but laughed eventually, and confirmed Daud’s suspicion that his troubles had been more of a self confidence problem most of the time. From that night on they rarely relied on the bonecharm anymore, and when both of their bodies refused to partake in their activities every now and then they had simply accepted that, because it didn’t change the feelings between them. Now, with Daud being almost seventy and Corvo only a few years younger, they still share sensualities as often as they can, slowly and gently minding each other’s condition, but the love radiating from every one of Corvo’s touches and kisses is still there, unchanged despite the time that passed.

Daud snaps out of his brooding when he notices Corvo signing in the corner of his vision, turning to face him fully. There is something decidedly flirty in Corvo’s gaze, the soft brown of his eyes lighting up.

 _I very much enjoyed last night_ , he signs, and Daud feels himself mirroring Corvo’s knowing grin.

“Me too.” Daud puts down the folder he was holding and walks over to Corvo, playing with the collar of his coat as he presses close. “A worthy farewell to my former quarters.”

Corvo nods, turning his head a little to kiss Daud, hands placed firmly on the small of his back. Daud shudders with pleasure and returns the kiss, deepening it and groaning softly when Corvo’s warm palm caresses the back of his neck, his fingers digging into Corvo’s hair. Daud’s thoughts stray back to last night, like they had done for most of the morning, the last evening they spent together in Daud’s former rooms before he would move in with Corvo. It had been one of the occasions in which simple cuddling quickly turned into sensual caresses followed by a short, fervent struggle to undress the other, for once both of their bodies playing along, the desire for each other too strong to do anything but give in to it. After a long and blissful foreplay they had decided with a few breathless words that Daud would top, carefully minding Corvo’s back while finding a nice angle and rhythm, burying himself in his partner. They had felt so young again that night, an echo of their shared past, and when they had reached their peak at the same time Daud had felt like he’d never been more in love with Corvo.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Corvo signs _You were gorgeous_.

“Romantic fool,” Daud growls quietly against Corvo’s lips, feeling the other man smirk in response. Corvo withdraws a little and shoots Daud one more grin before turning for the door. Daud gives his backside a slap when he walks by, chuckling at the little jump he makes and Corvo’s fake glare. Corvo signals him with a short gesture that he’ll be away to check up on the guards, and Daud continues to get his things sorted in.

While skimming through his folders, Daud realizes that he forgot his ink jar in his old quarters. Frowning, he checks the crate again, but it’s not there. He briefly considers going back to fetch it but decides against it, not feeling like walking the entire distance and too lazy to transverse that many times. He decides to simply borrow Corvo’s ink and walks over to his desk to look for the jar. A chiding little sigh escapes him when he eyes the mess around Corvo’s desk, the surface covered in a pile of paper, pencils, dirty teacups and crossbow ammunition littering every possible space between the books and audiograph. When skimming through the clutter doesn’t reveal anything useful, Daud starts digging around in the wooden drawers, pulling them out one by one in his search of ink.

There is a soft tinkling noise, and Daud stops moving immediately.

He turns, noticing a small, silver key on the floor, responsible for the sound as it hit the marble tiles. Daud briefly wonders where it had come from, and feeling under the surface of the drawer he realizes that it had been hidden there behind a rubber strap. He lets out a soft groan as he bends down to pick up the key, turning it in his fingers to inspect it.

Daud’s eyes unconsciously scan Corvo’s desk, and before he can help it he notices a small drawer suspended below the letter rack, almost hidden behind the audiograph. He hesitates, blinking, but then reaches out to test if the drawer can be opened.

It is locked, and the key looks like it fits.

Daud is under no illusion that Corvo had kept the key hidden, but for what reason he has no idea. Without really intending to, he briefly asks himself why Corvo had never told him about the key, when he was sure that over the years every single secret of them had become something they share with the other. Is there something in the drawer Corvo doesn’t want anyone to know about, not even Daud, his trusted lover? If so, why? Daud frowns as he thinks about this, tries to come up with a possible explanation. What could Corvo possibly keep in there that he wants to hide from everyone except himself?

Daud huffs, torn between chiding himself for overthinking things and actually feeling anxious that Corvo apparently keeps a secret from him. It could be something entirely banal, like a spare key for the Tower gates that he wants to prevent from falling into the wrong hands, but then he would have told Daud about it. All of a sudden, Daud feels tempted to simply open the drawer and see what’s inside, even though that would be, technically, a violation of Corvo’s private sphere. Still, Daud knows there is a level of trust between them that rids them of any necessity to hide, be it their past or their feelings, and he’s sure that if it is something unsignificant Corvo wouldn’t mind him knowing. He still can’t stop asking himself why there seems to be something Corvo wants to hide, and before Daud can stop his hand from moving he’s slipped the small key into the lock and turned it.

The drawer snaps open immediately and Daud lifts his eyebrows in surprise when a stack of audiograph cards spill out, cluttering to the desk surface.

He blinks slowly, frowning when he asks himself why in the Void Corvo keeps a separate set of cards apart from his others. There is an entire box of his audiograph correspondence, voice messages from contacts, watch officers and politicians, unsorted and without any obvious order, but the ones that just emerged from the secret drawer seem to be something special.

Daud could wait until Corvo is back to ask him about it, he realizes dimly as he picks up a random card, the scrawled on date telling him the recording was done a few years before the Plague. Daud could ask Corvo about the cards and most possibly find out that there is a perfectly plausible explanation as to why Corvo had hidden them, Daud muses as he slips the card into the audiograph with shaking hands and hits the play button, mind reeling from confusion and a strange sense of uncertainty.

When the first seconds of background noise and buzzing have passed and the recording starts, Daud has to brace himself against the table to prevent himself from losing his balance, heart hammering in his chest.

A male person speaking fills the room, his voice deep and rich and slightly raspy, a pleasant bass underlining the beautiful sonorous tone.

_“First day of the Month of Harvest. Preparations for the Roseburrow memorial are going well, but Captain Alistair still hasn’t finished the stocktaking protocol of the Watch outpost I asked him for, and…”_

_“Corvo, look! I made a paper duck!”_

_“Emily, that was my copy of the contract with House Landon! I still need that.”_

It’s Corvo speaking, Daud realizes faintly with the last corner of his mind that is not utterly overwhelmed with an unspeakable mass of emotions. It’s Corvo, his soulmate, so much younger and still in possession of his voice, talking to his little daughter.

Emily speaks again, sounding remorseful.

_“Sorry, Corvo. I just wanted to make a duck for you. Please don’t be angry.”_

_“It’s alright, Emily. Come here and show me.”_

_“I peeled off the seal to make it look like a wing.”_

_“Great… So, I’m afraid I have to turn this into a contract again. But you know what? You can have all those complaints from the stinky old Spymaster he keeps sending me and turn them all into ducks, how would you like that?”_

_“Really? May I?”_

_“I insist, Princess.”_

_“Thank you, Corvo! Can we go fishing later?”_

_“Emily, remember what happened last time?”_

_“… I got the hook into my arm and mommy was angry with you. But I promise I’ll be more careful this time. Can we, Corvo? Please!”_

_“After I finish my report. I guess I’ll just start this one over.”_

There is a shrill whoop of joy, and the sound of Corvo picking up a fresh card. The audiolog ends with a harsh rustle, and then the player clatters to a stop.

Only when the sound of Corvo’s voice disappears, Daud realizes the drone in his head, the cacophony of his own heartbeat racing in his chest drowning out the sudden silence. His breathing comes in short, nervous stutters, and he watches his own hands removing the audiograph card to replace it with another.

_“Thirteenth day of the Month of Songs. I’m sure the court session safety won’t be an issue, but the guard patterns need to be checked anyway. The Empress insists on going to Coldridge again to look after the conditions they keep prisoners in, a waste of time if you ask me.”_

_“Corvo, if your antics finally get you into prison you’d appreciate to have a nice, cozy cell instead of a wet pile of straw, don’t you think?”_

_“And what makes you think I’d ever get myself into prison, your Highness?”_

A gentle, feminine chuckle, and the sound of a wine bottle being opened.

_“For starters, by repeating what you did to Lord Henley.”_

_“He did call Emily a noisy brat, remember?”_

_“I heard that, but your reaction was a little inappropriate.”_

_“You might be right. I should have tossed him out the window instead of pressing my blade to his throat to make him squeal like a little girl in front of the entire court.”_

Jessamine laughs, and there is the sound of wood creaking.

_“Maybe you should have. Thank you, dear.”_

_“My pleasure, your Highness.”_

_“Stop calling me that. No need for formalities.”_

_“Says the Empress that just climbed on my lap.”_

There is the sound of a kiss, only faintly but still noticeable, and then the recording rustles to a stop.

Daud had long stopped struggling for breath and hastily exchanges the audiograph card with another one, reeling from emotions he can’t name. He listens to Corvo’s voice, beautiful and deep, shards of a time long passed, happier times, before things turned dark. He listens and listens, listens as Corvo makes mental notes on tasks he has to fulfill, audiologs he had to restart because he was too tired to speak in coherent sentences, snippets of dialogues between him and Emily as she interrupts his work, Corvo’s voice brimming with affection for his little daughter.

Daud plays one card after the next, fervently going through them, listening to some passages over and over again. He’s flopped down in Corvo’s chair at some point, unable to keep standing on shaking legs. He needs more, needs to hear this beautiful sound that he never had the luck to get to know due to his own mistakes, addicted to the sound of Corvo’s voice as if it’s a drug he didn’t know existed. Daud doesn’t feel the time passing as the sits there and wallows in the sound of his voice. It’s not that he feels his regret over his past returning, Daud knows Corvo had forgiven him fully and he’s too old and too grounded to worry about that anymore. It’s more a strange kind of jealousy, a horrible feeling of emptiness that fills him when he suddenly realizes that he will never, ever hear Corvo speak like this to him, never hear Corvo saying his name or the tremble in his voice when he tells Daud that he loves him. Daud had never thought he would feel like he had missed out on something. He had long accepted the way they communicate, and his deep understanding of Corvo takes nothing more than a few gestures and looks to tell him all he needs to know, but that doesn’t help the massive weight collapsing over his head when Daud suddenly realizes what he had never had, and will never have, as long as he lives, merely echoes remaining of this beautiful, beautiful lost voice.

Daud faintly registers that he’s crying, quietly, his face buried in his hands with slow tears streaming down his cheeks. He listens and listens, sinking down further with every passing second, until suddenly a firm hand clamps down on his shoulder and the recording stops abruptly.

“ _No_ ,” Daud pleads desperately and attempts to reach for the play switch, but strong arms  grasp his wrists, hold him close, warmth and a familiar scent enveloping him. Corvo helps him up from the chair over to a couch and wraps him in a strong embrace, gently pressing Daud’s head against his chest. Daud struggles desperately for composure, his trembling mind searching for something to hold onto, anything, and as if Corvo knew he presses his lips against Daud’s forehead and rubs slow circles over his back. The gentle, rhythmic touch combined with the soothing sound Corvo makes and his slow, steady heartbeat against Daud’s chest pull him out of his daze, and he slowly finds himself calming down. He simply breathes, focuses on the sound of Corvo’s own exhales that ghost through his hair where Corvo has rested his chin.

Eventually, Daud feels able to speak again, and struggles for another minute for something he could say.

“That’s why you kept them hidden, didn’t you?” he asks quietly.

Daud doesn’t elaborate any further, doesn’t phrase that he knows Corvo kept the audiograph recordings with his voice locked away so Daud can’t accidentally listen to them and get hurt like he did now by his own stupid curiosity. Corvo simply nods, and Daud squeezes his eyes shut and swallows heavily.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Corvo interrupts him with a soft sound. Hands hover in front of Daud’s face to sign, and Daud withdraws only a little so he can see them.

_No, don’t apologize. I should have told you about the cards, so you could make the decision to listen to them or not. I didn’t mean for you to find them like this. I figured it would be too much._

Daud draws in a stuttering exhale, and Corvo immediately presses him as close as he physically can, holds him wrapped in warm arms until Daud had stopped shaking. Eventually, a finger is being placed under Daud’s chin and Corvo gently tilts his head up until their eyes lock, and he leans in to kiss him. Corvo doesn’t sign, but his eyes speak volumes, sorrow and apologies and something soft and understanding. He leans in to kiss the streaks of tears on Daud’s cheeks, and Daud closes his eyes, Corvo’s lost voice still echoing in his head. When he withdraws again, the hint of a smile plays around Corvo’s beautiful lips.

 _I think it would be best if we keep the cards locked away._ When Daud genuinely nods, Corvo looks pleased and continues. _But_ _you know where the key is_. _You are welcome to listen to them again if you feel ready. But, there is one card I wanted to show you._

Daud shoots him a confused glance at his last words. He watches as Corvo gets up and feels around in the small drawer he had kept the audiograph cards hidden in. When he pulls his hand out he’s holding another card, with a red cross marking the surface. Corvo shows it to Daud and he reads the date. It’s quite old, years before the Plague, from the time during which Daud’s assassination business had been the most profitable. Corvo puts the card into the audiograph player. The recording starts, and Daud feels his heart beating faster with almost painful little lurches when he hears Corvo’s voice, saying something about City Watch recruits. Corvo presses the fast-forward switch, as if looking for a certain passage in the recording, and finally lets go of the audiograph. He steps aside, watching Daud’s face as the words chime gently in the office.

_“… and I believe this is the last time some corrupt noble bastard attempts to topple Jessamine’s poverty reformation plans we’ve been working so hard for. As little as I approve of it, this time I almost want to give that Knife of Dunwall credit for assassinating Lord Gable. Good riddance. Never thought I’d ever say that, but… This goes to you, Daud. Thanks. You just made the world a slightly better place.”_

Daud stares, unbelieving, and watches as Corvo presses the replay button, plays that passage again.

_“This goes to you, Daud. Thanks. You just made the world a slightly better place.”_

Corvo’s voice, soft and deep and slightly husky, saying his name.

Corvo plays the passage again, only a second. _“This goes to you, Daud. Thanks.”_ And then he presses the stop switch, his hands moving to add _I love you_.

Daud is shaking once more, and Corvo hurries to sit by his side, holding him close. Daud buries his face in the curve of his neck, breathes in his scent. Corvo makes a soothing sound and rubs Daud’s back, the touch gentle and reassuring. Slowly, ever so slowly, Daud feels himself emerging from the pit of sorrow and confusion that listening to Corvo’s voice had left him in. He calms down, almost a little surprised at the intensity of emotional response hearing the cards had elicited in him, and still feeling a gentle heat pooling in his stomach when he recalls Corvo’s voice saying his name. A part of Daud had expected that if a recording exists with Corvo saying his name it would be something disapproving, something angry and disgusted, but not like this, so warm and friendly. The desperate wish to keep listening to the recordings until Daud loses himself in them is gone, dissolved into the knowledge that he can always listen to the cards again if he wishes, and somehow, that is enough to fill Daud with contentment. The possibility is there, the card with the red cross on it, the recording of Corvo saying his name. The knowledge that is exists is something nobody can take away from Daud, and that is all he needs.

 _I’m sorry I didn’t show you earlier. When our bond was still fresh I assumed not bringing the recordings up was better and decided to lock them away. Over time I completely forgot they existed. I didn’t mean bad_ , Corvo says.

Daud finds Corvo’s deeply concerned eyes with his and hurries to smile. “It’s alright. Really. I appreciate your concern. It’s… touching, I guess.”

They exchange a smile that turns into a slow, thorough kiss. Daud chuckles when Corvo nips at his lip. “It’s nice to know that you’ve been a softhearted fool ever since we got together.”

At that, Corvo growls playfully and they kiss again, their kiss turning into something more sensual. Corvo cups Daud’s face with his hands, purring with pleasure when Daud digs his fingers in Corvo’s grey hair to massage his scalp. The warm palms caressing his face move away and Daud almost lets out a soft whine at the loss of contact.

_I will always be with you. I swear._

Daud fails to stop his wistful smile and fluttering heart, and he knows that Corvo can see past all his barriers, so he doesn’t even try to hide it. “I’ll always be with you too. My beautiful soulmate.”

_If your first day in our shared quarters starts like this, how is the rest going to be?_

Daud laughs against Corvo’s lips. “I have no idea. I dread the day you discover my collection of poisonous Serkonan desert spiders.”

Corvo withdraws, brows drawn together in a frown. _Your what?_

“It’s called a joke, Corvo. Though I did a course on taxidermy when I was at the Academy. I could tell you something about it, if you like.”

Corvo’s warm breath tickles Daud’s lips when he chuckles. _No, thank you. How about you shutting up for just a moment?_

Daud groans in agreement and lets his hands speak instead, letting them roam over Corvo’s shoulders and his back and under the rim of his coat, and a moment later the coat is gone. Daud’s own vest joins the pile on the floor that grows as they slowly, patiently unveil more of their bodies for the other, reverently kissing at soft skin and silvery scars. Daud allows Corvo to press him flat on his back, the couch soft and comfortable under them, and they indulge in touches neither age nor years could ever take away from them for as long as they live.

**Author's Note:**

> Really, I don't know how often I'll get to post little oneshots like this, but whenever I feel like it I will add some more on a rather irregular basis, for now. Thank you for reading!


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